


Application For Internship

by HeadOfSpectre



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Abuse, Excessive Swearing, Other, Pokemon - Freeform, Threats of Death, Violence, Woman on bird violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 12:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11555046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadOfSpectre/pseuds/HeadOfSpectre
Summary: Local Woman Attempts To Bully Bird, Gets Beaten Up





	Application For Internship

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an RP with aether-accountant.tumblr.com  
> It was one of the single greatest threads I've ever done with anyone.

Aether Paradise was fairly quiet for a change. Jazz certainly didn’t mind that. Quiet was good. She could get her work done when it was quiet, and when she got tired of it being quiet, there was always the rubber chicken that squeaked.

            The Chatot worked on her tax reforms, ensuring Aether didn’t have the IRS breathing down their necks. Lusamine’s ruthless expenditures needed SOMEBODY to take care of all this work, and that somebody was a Chatot. The other employees knew better than to question that, since those who questioned it were usually bitten.

            She barely looked up when someone entered her office, only enough to register their presence and hope they’d go away quickly.

   “Sup, pretty bird?” A familiar, and rather hateful chipper voice said. The criminal known as Samantha Garnett leaned against Jazz’s desk, odd eyes boring into the bird. There was a Sylveon at her side, a fat one at that, which barely had enough strength to move its massive body.

            Jazz surveyed her unwanted visitors before letting out a frustrated sigh.

    “Oh God, what the fuck do you want? Another Hyper Voice?” The bird grumbled, glaring at Samantha, “I’m busy, don’t bother me!”

            The woman had made the mistake of continually insulting Jazz during her last intrusion, and she’d paid dearly for it. Jazz had screamed loud enough to startle poor Florie next door, and Samantha had wound up retreating in tears from the sonic pain administered directly to her eardrums. It had not been a dignified retreat, for a person who fancied themselves a highly dangerous criminal.

    “Shit, that’s just rude… I mosey on down here, figure I’d make a lil’social call… Besides. Seeing you in your esteemed fucking position, got me thinking… You could use a friend.”

            She nudged her Sylveon with her boot, the pokemon reacted affectionately, nuzzling against Samantha’s leg.

    “I don’t need your fat sack of lard stinking up my office!” The bird growled, “I don’t need you bothering me either! I already tore down those posters you put up, advertising a ‘Poultry cook-off’ in my office! Nobody responded to them, by the way!”

            Samantha seemed just a little taken aback. Her ever present grin seemed to twitch.

    “Rude as fuck, as I was saying…” She murmured, “My sweet lil’ Daphne here is the SWEETEST and KINDEST lil’cuddlemuffin this side of anywhere… insult her again, and I’ll just flat out shoot you. Besides. I already filled out the paperwork, she’s your new co-op student.”

            Jazz looked up from her work. It was difficult to tell if she was annoyed, offended, murderously angry, or some combination of all three.

    “I figured, if a dumb fucking bird can become a fucking accountant… well shit, I can let my Cuddlemuffin absorb your wisdom… orally, ideally. Maybe with a bit of crunch. I hear birds are crunchy… never tried eating one, but my little baby sure does love to eat…” She winked at Jazz knowingly.

            Daphne the Sylveon displayed her stellar lack of any sort of intellect by attempting to nibble on an outdated tax sheet, and Jazz screamed at her, which did nothing to cause her to stop. Daphne knew no fear. Only hunger. Jazz let it slide for now. Those sheets were basically garbage anyways.

    “If you think that fat piece of shit is going to fucking stay in my office, you’ve got another thing coming!” Jazz said, leaving the fact that the Sylveon didn’t look like it could hurt her in any way other than sitting on her.

    “You know, you’re really asking for it this time. I can scream even louder, you know, and given how much you were crying after last time, I’d love to see what happens when I scream louder!”

            She sucked in a breath to do just that, when Samantha spoke again, saying something that momentarily stayed her wrath.

    “Try that shit on me again and I’ll hunt down the little shitstain who owns your pokeball, and cut their fucking throat.”

            Jazz narrowed her eyes.

    “My trainer?” She asked, “You can’t find my trainer! Nobody can!” Samantha just grinned in response.

    “Motherfucker, do you really wanna bet all your chips on that?” She asked, “I know all the tricks… I’m a ghost myself. If I look, I can find fucking anyone and everyone, doesn’t matter who’s hiding them. Private security, Government, Interpol, Mafia… I. Will. Find. Them. And when I do, I’ll make it bloody.”

            She leaned in just a bit closer.

    “Scream, and I will fucking murder them… That is my personal guarantee to you.”

    “You’re crazy if you think I’ll let you do that.” The Chatot said, her voice suddenly much calmer and almost toneless.

    “What’re you gonna do about it, Pretty Bird? You can either scream, and lose your trainer, or keep your beak shut and put up with my little cuddlemuffin until she gets hungry. Your call.”

            Jazz didn’t need to think about it. She’d already made up her mind.

            She moved with near lightning speed, launching herself at Samantha’s face. The woman let out an almost inhuman screech a ball of feathers, rage and swear words hit her at full force. Then the biting began, hard chomps, biting at her cheeks, her nose, whatever flesh was exposed. Jazz was here to _kill._

            Samantha swatted at her own face, trying to knock the Chatot off. But the pain was intense, and the blood was running down the numerous injuries on her head. She briefly forced the bird off, and stumbled across the room, clutching at her bloodied face. Her cheek was scratched up. Her nose ring had been torn out, and her left eye was squeezed shut. Much of the blood seemed to come from there.

    “Son of a fucking…”

            Jazz came at her again, nearly knocking the petite girl down with the sheer force behind her aggression. Samantha tried to escape, but wound up falling over Jazz’s desk, and down to the ground. The biting and clawing continued with a horrific vengeance, drawing more blood. In desperation, Samantha grabbed the Chatot. She couldn’t pull it away from her this time. All she could do was squeeze as hard as she could.

            Jazz bit at her lip, biting away a chunk of skin, as Samantha’s squeezing grew more and more intense. She felt a wing snap, and relented only briefly. Sam took the opportunity to slam the birds head against the nearest object, in this case, a filing cabinet. It did next to nothing. Jazz simply tried to bite at her fingers, and clawed her way back to the woman’s face, tearing away another beak full of skin.

            Samantha hurled Jazz aside against her desk, before hastily standing up. Jazz was still alive. One wing dragged on the ground, clearly broken and she walked with a clear limp. Some of her ribs had been broken, and she left a trail of blood when she moved to pursue Samantha, who hastily picked herself up, tripping over Daphne who assumed that this violent encounter was the perfect time for a cuddle.

            Samantha all but ignored the Sylveon, and went for her poke ball, returning Daphne to it for the first time in a while.

    “You… YOU SUCK ASS, JAZZ!” Samantha snarled, her façade broken to show genuine rage. Her face was covered in blood, and one eye was forced shut. It looked as if Jazz had nearly ripped it out.

 “My fucking face… the fuck did you do, you motherfucker, THE FUCK DID YOU DO! YOU’VE GONE AND FUCKED YOURSELF, MY FRIEND, THAT’S WHAT! THEY’LL FUCKING EUTHANIZE YOU LIKE THE STUPID LITTLE SHIT YOU ARE! I will personally FUCKING guarantee it!”

            The door to Jazz’s office opened, and Samantha spotted a few employees coming to see what the fuss was about. Her remaining eye widened, as she reached into her pocket, and pulled out a flashbang grenade. She pulled the pin, and tossed it onto the ground, detonating it a short distance away from Jazz.

            The bird swore as she was blinded by the blast, and cut by a piece of shrapnel. Samantha took the chance to push past the employees, and sprint for safety. Someone else, outside the office tried to stop her, and she drew a pistol, firing blindly and missing them as she sprinted off to make her escape.

            Jazz panted and swayed uneasily on her feet, before slumping down. She’d been in a lot of fights and been very badly wounded, and this was bad.

            Someone scooped her up gently, and she didn’t bite them out of gratitude. Through the haze of pain, she noticed the red hair of a fellow co-worker. It was Florie Lantana, a fellow employee from next door, and a friend.

 

            Jazz passed out on the way to the infirmary. That was probably for the best. It allowed one of the nurses on staff to treat some of the cuts under her feathers and set her broken wing without her being hurt any more than she already was, or her biting them in some effort to protect herself from any further harm.

She came to just as a small IV was being inserted into her, to keep her stable. She would have bitten the nurse if she hadn’t noticed Florie sitting nearby.

            The woman reached out to pet her feathers, and Jazz bowed her head in exhaustion, as her eyes fixated on the IV. She remembered what Samantha had threatened before she’d retreated… and it scared her.

     “What’s that…” She asked Florie.

     “You lost a lot of blood. It’s for a transfusion.” Florie said, still petting Jazz. The bird looked at her mistrustfully.

    “It’s not to euthanize me?” She asked suspiciously.

    “What? Of course not!”

            That was a relief. Jazz rested her head down, allowing herself to relax. Florie reached down to scratch her belly, which made things infinitely better.

   “Do you think they’re going to euthanize me for this?” Jazz asked, staring at the nurse as she readied a small bag for the blood transfusion.

    “I won’t let them if they try.” Florie promised her, still scratching her belly.

    “That Bitch…” The bird murmured, “She really thinks she can harass my trainer. She’s only going to create trouble for herself.”

            Florie nodded in agreement.

    “Is that what it was about? Your trainer? I don’t see why else she’d try and fight you… money, maybe. But who in their right mind would pick a fight with you over money?”

    “She picked a fight because she’s crazy! I would’ve just bit one of her fingers off if she hadn’t threatened my trainer. It’s her own fault she doesn’t have two functioning eyes anymore!”

            Jazz didn’t possess the mouth necessary to smile, but if she could have, she certainly did.

            She dozed off shortly afterwards. The fatigue took its toll on her. She woke up briefly during the night, only to find Florie sleeping in the chair beside her.

            Honestly, she appreciated it… it was good to have a friend.

 

 

   “How fucking bad is it?” Samantha asked bitterly. She sat in a chair, in Rico’s house, fists clenching and unclenching in rage.

    “I can treat the injuries… the eye, I can make no promises. Perhaps there is a specialist you can see, _signora,_ but you need to be prepared for the possibility that you may never see out of that eye again.”

    “All this over a motherfucking bird…” Samantha growled, “Show me the damages…”

            Rico hesitated, before bringing her a mirror. The left side of her face had taken the brunt of the damages. A patchwork of scratches crisscrossed her skin. Some would likely permanently scar. They’d be ugly as they healed. Her eye was bloodshot, and there were bandages around it, indicative of where Jazz had removed skin and flesh. Samantha growled quietly, before looking away.

    “Fuck me… there goes my chances of getting laid for the rest of my fucking life.”

    “Some of the ladies are into scars, no?” Rico asked, trying to stay positive, “I may have something to help you go around with… well, that, without seeming too unsightly.”

            He left her for a moment, returning with a motorcycle helmet.

     “It’ll work.” She said, taking it from him, and catching her mutilated reflection in the visor, before putting it on.

            She was going to find that birds fucking trainer, and murder him.

**Author's Note:**

> They later talked out their differences like adults after Daphne's cutesy behavior ruined the atmosphere of the rematch.


End file.
